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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25536130">Marigolds and Marrows</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrassyOrchards/pseuds/GrassyOrchards'>GrassyOrchards</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wild Roses [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Evil Within (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Denial, I think a ghost overtook my body and wrote this but thats ok, Lots of Hurt and IDK if what comes after can count as comfort, M/M, Manipulation, Marking, Oops, Oops this is messed, Possesive behaviour, Sadomasochism, Torture, Unhealthy - Freeform, Violence, very edgy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:02:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25536130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrassyOrchards/pseuds/GrassyOrchards</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruvik had been like a ghost in the wind, a being that appears in the corner of his vision. Never for more than a few minutes, never to touch him, never to converse with him. The most he would get was a threat, a monologue. Some speech or glimpses of a long lost memory-Then he shot him, and Ruvik no longer left him alone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sebastian Castellanos/Ruben "Ruvik" Victoriano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wild Roses [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848733</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Marigolds and Marrows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ruvik had been like a ghost in the wind, a being that appears in the corner of his vision. Never for more than a few minutes, never to touch him, never to converse with him. The most he would get was a threat, a monologue. Some speech or glimpses of a long lost memory-Then he shot him, and Ruvik no longer left him alone. He would appear whenever he pleased, sometimes he would be distant, a glimpse in the crowd of monsters. Then, in far less fortunate moments he would appear closely, intimately. He would hold him with gentle hands, mock him with gentle kisses and sweeping movements. But they were never without pain. Barbed wire, headaches, the blade of a scalpel. With every meeting he was left with at least one new scar. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It began with brutality, coils of barbed wire and untamed violence. Cruelty digging into his bones and drawing out cries, lungs begging for air and body screaming for rest. He'd thrash and cuss and yell, fight back with the force of an untamed beast. Unyielding under anything that would be dished out to him. But he was powerless. When Ruvik deemed him beaten down enough, broken enough, he would leave, and Sebastian would stay. The pain would fade, new lines of red and white would appear where torn flesh knitted itself back together. Shaking with the phantom pains, the press of lips against his own drowning any cries he had left to offer. He didn't understand what Ruvik gained from these meetings. The only explanation was that he was trying to break him, tear down his steely exterior and bite through the soft centre beneath. Until he was nothing but red. There would be no more Sebastian, only the marks of what had once been his skin, too deformed and twisted to resemble himself anymore. He briefly wonders if that's how Ruvik feels about himself. That only when Sebastian matched him in disfigurement would he feel satisfied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Only, Ruvik underestimated his resolve. The lack of permanence in pain meant all he had to do was grit his teeth, suffer for some time, then go right back to fighting. He refused to yield, even when the agony was enough to bring out tears, Ruvik would only lick them away as if they were sweet. He always got back up. Physical torture was nothing compared to the loss of his daughter, his wife… A scalpel could only threaten the well being of his flesh, if anything it was a distraction from the real pain that was burrowed in his chest. The ghosts that haunted his mind were far worse than that of the waking world. Solace was found in bottles of whiskey, the pull of a cigarette… And oddly enough, the very different pain Ruvik brought him. It was by no means enjoyable, yet it remained a distraction all the same.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then the game changes. Ruvik begins to find an art in it. The brutality is still present, but it is fine tuned, approached with thought. Sebastian is very alarmed the first time barbed wire pulls his arms and legs to the wall, not cutting in, while Ruvik tears his shirt open. He thrashes, unsure of what he intends to do, causing the barbed wire to dig into his flesh. Small rivers of blood begin to pour down his wrists and ankles, metal unyielding under his best efforts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Stay still, and this will all hurt less." Ruvik mutters, as if the fact is obvious. As if Sebastian was a foolish child and not a man pinned to the wall with wire while being stripped by a sadist. His shirt is pulled aside, hanging off his shoulders and exposing the scars of his time spent in STEM. Old scars dot his body too, but they seem like nothing compared to the new lines and gouges. He tries to avoid looking at them, but can't help but notice them now. He sneers, and glares with as much hatred as he can muster as Ruvik presses a palm across his chest. He slides it down, the rough texture harshly noticeable against his exposed skin. It pauses, fingers spread flat over the expanse of his stomach, fine tuned with muscle yet not exaggerated. He looks thoughtful, enjoying the rise of heavy uncertain breaths jumping beneath his touch. The wariness thick in the air, uncertainty a most delicious dish. "Despite your terrible habits, you are healthy…" he pauses, and meets his eyes with a smirk "Your body, at least." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His head is racing with all the things Ruvik could be planning with full access to his abdomen. Perhaps he was going to start leaving surgical scars, pull out his organs one by one and leave him to wake up with them somehow back. Twisted lines hidden even within himself, unseen but still marked by Ruvik all the same. "You're fucked in the head, Ruvik." He curses, flinching instinctively into the wall as a scalpel is suddenly pressed against the sensitive skin. Ruvik's gaze is a glare, punctuated by the feeling of the scalpel gliding down across his navel. It's soft, hardly breaking the skin, small beads of blood appear along its track. It pauses where his pants begin and he suddenly feels nauseous. Ruvik ignores this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You aren't the first to tell me that, Seb." His voice is bitter, carrying the notes of unspoken memories. Dangerous territory he hadn't meant to cross. He swallows nervously, unsure of the safest way to negotiate out of this state. Calm Ruvik caused him pain, he didn't want to know what a furious Ruvik would do. "Yet you are incorrect as they all have been. Mindless sheep, you point at the outlier, the one who dares venture beyond the green pasture and into the shade of the forest. Heed not what he finds, and shun him instead for his methods. For his wolf's teeth. Ignore that all discovery when it comes with a cost that sheep are not conventionally willing to give." His tone slowly changes from angry to wistful, he is no longer really focusing on Sebastian. A fog covers his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His lips curl, and his glare returns. Self preservation is lost once more. "And what did the sheep with a wolf's teeth discover when he sank them into another?" The attention is suddenly on him again, hyper focused on his eyes. A smirk plays on his lips and he feels as if he'd rather not know the cause. But, like with everything, he no longer had any say in the matter. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The sheep with wolf's teeth discovers many things. Learned how the mind works in ways that none had seen before, dug in and grew intimately aware of every piece of information life could feed him. Sank his teeth and tore and tore and tore until there was nothing left to be offered to him-And so he created more." Pride fills him, hardly hidden in the glittering of his eyes. "Where the mind ended he paved new paths, stretched beyond its limit and expanded to create something wonderful…" He grows bitter again, scalpel pushing deeper where it rests below his navel. His free hand gently traces the line.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Blood smears his hand when he pulls it away, and he stares at it thoughtfully. "When he is betrayed, his work continues. It is not the same as before, but he continues to discover. Even trapped within the new paths he had created, trodding them until new cracks appear. Flowers sprout, insignificant little things, and he begins to cut them out… And you know what he learns about these little unwelcome flowers in his path?" Bloodied fingers are pressed to his lips, and Sebastian can't find it within himself to speak. His heart was pounding, threatening to break free from his chest. Ruvik leans closer, and when he speaks he can feel his lips brush against his ear. "Some of the flowers like his wolf's teeth-The ones that sprout damaged of course. Torn petals, browning roots… They simply glow when the sheep with wolf's teeth bites. They don't care about the carnage left in his wake, because it's something different. It's not the monotonous boring wilting they are used to-They are in denial, they wish to shun him the same as when they were sheep, but they are terrible at hiding things from him." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wishes to argue, to cuss and yell and deny the implications behind the words, but one blink and he is alone. His shirt is intact, a new scar across his navel, and his self-inflicted barbed wire wounds are gone. Frustration bubbles as he growls and punches the wall, and finds only horror when the bloody knuckles slowly fade back to pale mostly unmarked skin. Cusses escape him like a child throwing a tantrum, and he hardly resists the urge to destroy the room he's in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Only the wounds Ruvik made left any marks now. A decision he must have come to after their last encounter. Scratches disappeared, cuts and bruises too, even horrible twisted open wounds faded like they never occurred. Yet when Ruvik appeared, anything he inflicted turned red and prominent. Scars twisted across nearly his entire body, sparing his face and little else. He tested the theory with a bullet to the calf. It hurt like hell, but his flesh knitted itself back together within a matter of minutes, from entrance to exit wound. He doesn't know what to think about such a blatant display of ownership, so he sinks his face into his hands until Ruvik comes to tease a scalpel across the would-have-been bullet wound. He doesn't restrain him, and he doesn't even fight back. The lenience is rewarded with a more passionate kiss, a mockery of romance that remains unreturned. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He grows careless when fighting monsters, the ghastly form of Laura swings at him many times, sinks her claws through his shoulders and throws him once. By the time he finally manages to burn her alive he can't even remember the pain, because it was never really real to begin with. Teasers at being alive that never really settled in long enough to be substantial, artificial as everything here was. But Ruvik comes to remind him what life really was, five deep scalpel lines over his heart to mimic her claws. He let his own pain for his twice gone sister into the art, and sank into it with more unreciprocated kissing. Sebastian was just glad to not feel numb. Ruvik's game was in his favour, it always had been, but Sebastian hated watching him win anyways. They both knew it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He waited to be burned, to face the same trauma the Victoriano siblings had faced. For skin and muscle to be eaten by flame until he couldn't take it, and then fade until he was covered in angry red splotches. He tasted it on Ruvik's tongue, was reminded in the harsh textures of his body. The very smell he carried on him was remnant of that day, smoke billowing from his robes. Yet even after burning Laura to death once more he was spared that fate. It was unlikely a choice act of mercy, Ruvik likely didn't have the stomach for it. Ironic, that he would do anything but that. The atrocities he would commit, anything, anything except wield the weapon that doomed his childhood.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That's why he finds it ironic that it's Ruvik that looks scared when he fire laps at Sebastian's face. He's hardly reacted after the momentary stun, content to just ignore it until it stops. He's so numb to it, to the false pains. It eats at his flesh but he knows it won't last, it is false, and it will fade from his skin like everything else. The fire flickers to an end quickly, unable to sustain itself on skin alone. It hurts, where skin has burnt away, but it doesn't matter because it is already fading. Ruvik sinks his hands across the burns, knits his fingertips across his bloodied cheek and watches with fascination as it twists and fades back to normality. Something he could never mirror. When he swallows nervously he knows Ruvik feels it under his fingers. Maybe that's what sets him off, makes rage bubble behind his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His usually gentle fingers grow harsh, gripping his throat before shoving him against the wall. He chokes, gags on air as he is pulled from his feet. Fingers tense farther, threatening to shatter his windpipe in their vice grip. Ruvik staggers, lets go, but barbed wire soon wraps around instead, sharp edges digging in as he stares at his own hand. He stares as if it burned him. Sebastian's makeshift noose pulls tighter, and for the first time in a long time he wonders if this is the time Ruvik goes the extra step. When death and whatever came with it would greet him. He struggles, legs writhing to get leverage, hands grasping to desperately acquire oxygen. Blood rolls down his throat and arms, catching and soaking into his shirt. He's going to die. He's going to die. He's going to die-His air is running out and spots of black dance across his vision. His mind is screaming, static and noise flooding over him. He writhes like a fish on a hook, utterly panicking until he abruptly drops to the ground, crumpling into a ball to cough and wheeze for air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The world is fuzzy, an absolute blur of colours and sensations as he desperately tries to breathe. Blinking rapidly his vision slowly returns to some layer of focus, blurs of colours gaining familiar shapes he can identify. He flinches when Ruvik reaches out, gentle hands tracing down tear stained cheeks and dipping to his neck. The wounds on his hands fade quick enough, but the deep collaring from Ruvik's wire takes far longer. Fingers greet the bloody open wound, and he squeezes his eyes shut as they pet at it gently. He's still panting, throat raw and broken from the abuse. Saliva slides down his chin, and his breaths are heaved through broken lungs. Air was reaching him, but it was hardly a relief as every breath felt like inhaling hellfire. He was healing, but slowly. Ruvik likely wasn't done with him either, and seemed far more fascinated by his reactions than he deemed comfortable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yet no harm is placed on him, the mocking kisses are even skipped in lieu of touching healing wounds. He feels the moment the insides of his throat heals, when breathing feels normal and he could certainly speak again. But he chooses not to, instead he stares past Ruvik, waits for him to leave. He thinks of whiskey, and how much he would love to slam a bottle back with reckless abandon. Drink away his sorrows and chase the feeling with a cigarette.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In reality he doubted he would get to experience either sensation again in his lifetime. He had been so determined to live, but with Ruvik's special attention he found himself doubting his ability to even do that correctly. He would grow bored, Sebastian knew that. Before he can sink into melancholy further he is jolted back into reality by gentle hands on either side of his face. He blinks, posture going rigid as his head is tilted towards Ruvik. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sharp steely eyes are soft, the edges of an apology dance within them that won't be spoken. He doesn't know how to process that, of everything Ruvik has done(to him and to others) it was nearly killing him via asphyxiation in a moment of anger that he felt guilty for? He didn't understand him. Tired, he lets his neck go slack as his eyes flutter shut, but Ruvik holds it up, watching as the deepest marks of the wound finally fade to red. He chases after it, pressing his lips to his jugular and feeling the pulse beneath jump. Sebastian goes rigid, incredibly wary as hands lower to tear back his shirt once more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ruvik pulls back, and visibly begins to admire his marks left across Sebastian's skin. His hands slowly trace down, dancing across the lines he had left, all crisscrossing and layering over each other. Sebastian thought they were ugly, tainted skin, but Ruvik only found them exciting him. He mutters, more to himself than to Sebastian. "Beautiful." The word is genuine and sweet, echoing the same feelings in Sebastian that the kisses did. His eyes open, offering an incredibly tired glare. Ruvik is far too focused on the marks to meet his gaze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What the hell did you just say?" He growls, but there isn't the usual passion behind it. He is exhausted, with everything, their game, this moment, STEM-He just wanted to sleep it all off, and wake up to find this was all just a liquor induced coma. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ruvik glances up to meet his eyes, and his lips twitch with amusement. He hated that he knew Ruvik's quirks now. "If you had any doubts that you were mine, I believe I've marked you accordingly." He sweeps his hands down and rests them on his hips, leaning forwards with smugness bleeding from his every feature. "I've claimed you, and now you have the proof of that claim. You belong to me, Seb. And I don't plan on letting anyone try to take you as their own…" He breathlessly laughs. "Not that anyone would, as marked as you are now…" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He anticipates the sudden anger, smiles as Sebastian jolts forwards and grabs his throat. They twist, and Ruvik is now the one being shoved into the wall, Sebastian's larger frame suddenly appearing far more intimidating. He was now the man that the haunted face, the man of anger hiding behind a gun. Violent to the core, mislabeled as justice and self preservation. Ruvik's smirk broadens. "That's what this is about?" He growls, and something dangerous and feral burns in his eyes. "Your sick obsession with owning me like a fucking object? What's next Ruvik? Gonna carve your name across my chest?" He growls as he slams Ruvik against the wall, but if anything he only gains more enjoyment from the man. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fueled by anger he dives into Ruvik's pocket, and pulls out the familiar silver blade from it. Ruvik eyes him with interest, the scalpel dancing dangerously between Sebastian's fingers. The smugness pushes him over the edge and he reacts without thinking, glides the blade across the side of his chest where burns hadn't eaten it to nothing. Ruvik tenses under the feeling, then shudders, dead nerves pushed to the point of feeling again. Sebastian isn't sure what he expected to gain from this, but Ruvik's smugness tinged with enjoyment-He had done exactly what he had wanted. He was angry with himself, and Ruvik, had half a mind to shove the scalpel in his throat and hope he wouldn't get up again, but he wasn't that reckless. He had already experienced the consequences of that first hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He watches blood bubble and spill from the small wound, and finds himself upset that he finds it fascinating. Causing harm to his tormentor (despite the fact that he was thoroughly enjoying it) brought out a surge of pride. Some false sense of having the upper hand, of the power he carried in his previous life as a cop. A spark of life that had him drawing another line before he realized what he was doing, a deeper, harsher line that gains a quiet surprised gasp. Ruvik's hand suddenly grasps his wrist, and he pauses, expects him to snap it. But he pulls his hand closer to him,tilts his head to the side to expose more skin, digs the scalpel in deeper. They both shudder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Do you finally understand?" Ruvik speaks, leaning in closer towards sebastian. His breaths are heavier, heated against his face. He swallows, watching the lines turn to red scars, pausing only where the edge of the scalpel still pushed into warm flesh. He did understand, and he hated that he did. But a part of him always had. Ruvik takes his silence as agreement and presses closer, wraps his fingers over his shoulder and twists them again. Sebastian doesn't fight it, allows himself to be pushed against the wall again, eyes hyper focused on where the scalpel still connected them. He was dazed, enraptured.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ruvik hovers, straddling him before he dives in, and their lips meet in a familiar kiss. Sebastian wants to thrash, but he finds a lack of mocking in this one. He suddenly presses back, resentment bubbling in himself as mutual understanding is shared between their lips. He hasn't thought of his girls in so long… He wants to cry, to scream. But he kisses instead, pushes everything he has against ruvik. His teeth grind against each other, he hates what he's become under Ruvik's thumb. Yet he finally lacks the fight to deny it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He feels hot, like the fire was bubbling under his skin, fading from his face and finding purchase within. He wants Ruvik to cut it out, to watch the flames escape his body until they're gone. His free hand raises, thumb pushing against the ruined skin of Ruvik's throat. He feels the heat, the fire under his skin that mirrors his own. He wants to let it out, perhaps freeing it would remove the burden Ruvik carries. Soften his edges. If they cut the fire out from each other would they burn? Or would they be free?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulls away, eyes half lidded as he admires the small wound, none too gently removing the surgical tool. Ruvik says nothing, just hovers, breathing above him. "Flowers can grow teeth too." Sebastian mutters, calling back to the conversation that had been their turning point. When hurting him had twisted into this, ruined them both. Neither had foreseen this-or maybe Ruvik planned it from the beginning. He was tired of trying to pretend he understood everything the other man thought. They both needed to hurt and be hurt, it was all they knew. Two monsters, hiding with the faces of men. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I believe those are called thorns." Ruvik retorts, the first edge of humour he had ever shown bleeding into his voice. He doesn't bother retorting, allows the sounds of their shared breaths to take over. Steel eyes rove over him contentedly, a hidden warmth suddenly shining brightly. Sebastian can't handle it and closes his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He remembers before, wielding a gun, smashing the faces of criminals in. Shoot or be shot mentality, 'cleaning up the city', parading around a badge and calling himself justice. Returning to his wife and child and smiling. Telling them he loved them. He was no better than Ruvik. Maybe he was worse, hiding behind twisted morals and the falsities of happiness and moral high ground. Hurting under the guise of helping people. Ruvik never hid what he was, called himself a monster from a young age. Grew bitter and twisted, let it consume him and displayed it on the outside. Wore his monstrosities on his sleeves unabashedly. Saw and accepted what he had done as objectively wrong yet was willing to make the sacrifices all the same. Sebastian hid it, denied it, refused himself what he wanted, what he was, until the truth was torn from his bloody lips. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sebastian jumps as the scalpel glides across his collarbone, their eyes meet and their understanding is shared once more. He had been spacing out, allowing the melancholic cloud to take over his mind, and Ruvik sought to recapture his focus. He could do it easily. "I'll take away your pain." Ruvik stresses, pressing the scalpel tainted with both their blood deeper. They're connected in ways that are unorthodox, and twisted. But Sebastian doesn't care. They're monsters in a world built just for them, there was no need to pretend they were anything else anymore. He shivers, and pulls Ruvik in for another kiss, the blade sinking in and taking away everything he had been.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I will not apologize</p></blockquote></div></div>
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